The show is over and I’m still in one piece. My leg is angry as hell at me, but luckily it kept me vertical through the entire performance. By the time I walked off stage, though, it was weak and sore. It worked hard. Bless its little heart.
I feel pretty good about the show; I just wish I’d been functioning at 100%. Because aside from the leg, I felt great. What made me nervous was the constant worry that I was just a step away from tearing my calf muscle completely and collapsing in a sad heap of ruffles in front of an audience. There were a few moments where twinges of pain scared me into backing off and not giving it my all. But the show itself and the dances … I felt surprisingly calm about it all, probably for the first time ever.
This fills me with so much hope for the future. I’ve overcome a lot of fears over the last six months, I now realize. In part because I’ve improved and I have a few of these student shows under my belt, but also because I’ve come to a point in my life where I’m starting to care just a little less about what others think of me.
Every time I have some significant flamenco experience, it triggers something in my brain that makes me rethink my life. Dancing makes me happy. Some other things in my life make me less than happy sometimes, but dancing always makes me happy. Like, for instance, in every day life, it’s sometimes hard not to get down on things you feel are missing or not quite right, or be unaffected by people who love you or people who don’t.
But putting on a pretty dress and stepping on stage to do something I love, I forget about a lot of things. I don’t care who’s watching or whether they approve. I just want to do my best and enjoy my moment, and if anyone loves me, that’s just a bonus. Shouldn’t life be the same way?
Time to put my leg on ice once more before bed. Today was a good day and tomorrow will be better. Thanks for listening.
Married to the Dance 
Ole, my dear, ole!
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